


Let It Rain

by Gemmiel



Series: Wet Wings [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Wing Kink, self pleasuring, sex in the rain, wet wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:50:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemmiel/pseuds/Gemmiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of "Wet Wings," Dean awakens to find Castiel has left his side. But he soon discovers Castiel outside, wings spread wide in the rain...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Wet Wings" is so far my most popular stand-alone fic, so I felt I should write a sequel to it. I know I have too many WIPs, but this one should be only two chapters long, and finished up in a day or two.

Dean Winchester awakened to a distant rumble of thunder. He stared into the darkness, feeling unusually warm and comfortable, and trying to recall why.

He rolled over, and his hand brushed over a warm spot on the bed. Suddenly he remembered.

Castiel had been lying beside him.

He and Cas had been… well. Cas had saved him from an explosion, he’d helped the angel by cleaning debris out of his wings, and somewhere along the way things had gotten… well, things had changed between them.

Sammy was in California, which had given the two of them a certain freedom they'd never had before. After they’d made out in the shower, they’d fallen into bed together. Dean had meant to explore the angel's wings further, but he’d totally zonked out, worn out by a hard day of hunting. Exhaustion and post-orgasmic contentment had turned his muscles to Jell-o, and he’d passed right out. But he still remembered Cas lying beside him, holding him as he collapsed into slumber. 

He knew Cas didn’t sleep, so he shouldn’t feel surprised and, well, hurt that the angel had just walked out on him. But he couldn’t help it.

 _Stupid,_ he chided himself. Cas tended to come and go like a summer breeze. Half the time he didn’t even say “goodbye,” just popped out like a soap bubble. Dean knew better than to think the angel would ever stick around for long.

But after what they’d done in the shower…

He rolled back over and heaved a sigh. He should've known Cas would be feeling, well, weird about what they’d done. It was weird enough for him, considering he’d always thought of himself as straight. But for Cas—

He knew Cas didn’t give a shit about sexual orientation, and the fact that Dean was a guy probably wasn’t even a consideration for him. But the fact that Dean was a human—yeah, that had to be bugging Cas. Angels in general looked down on humans, calling them “mud monkeys” and “hairless apes” and similar terms of endearment. Cas wasn’t as much of a dick as most angels, but he still must’ve internalized the humans-are-inferior attitude that seemed to permeate Heaven. And the fact that he’d been intimate—well, sort of intimate—with a human was probably bugging the crap outta him.

Realizing he wasn’t going to get back to sleep, Dean sat up with a sigh. The clock beside the bed helpfully informed him it was 2:23. He hated to sound like a needy teenage girl, but he couldn’t stop himself. Tentatively, he said to the air, “Cas?”

He waited, but heard nothing except another rumble of thunder. Distant lightning flashed, and in the sudden flare he saw that the door to the motel room had been opened, and left ajar. That suggested Cas was still nearby, since if he was going any distance he didn't usually bother with such mundane items as doorknobs. Grumbling to himself, Dean stood up, threw on sweat pants and an old t-shirt, and stumbled out into the cool night air. 

Clouds rolled overhead, dark and ominous. In another sulfurous flash he saw his beloved black car, gleaming in the brief flare of electricity. But there was no sign of Cas. 

_Stupid,_ he chided himself again. _You’re being needy and clingy. Of course Cas isn’t here. He’s gone off without saying goodbye, just like he always does…_

Another flash illuminated the area for an instant, and he saw a dark-haired man standing in the grass alongside the parking lot, staring up at the sky. White wings were folded neatly behind him, so long they actually trailed on the ground. Dean blinked as the flash faded, wondering if he’d always be able to see Cas’ wings from now on. Before tonight, he'd only seen them as hard-to-notice shadows, but now he saw every snowy feather, just as clearly as he saw Cas' human vessel.

He moved toward Cas. He was barefoot, and walked quietly as a matter of habit, but angels had senses humans had never dreamed of, and it was impossible for the hunter to sneak up on his friend. And yet Cas seemed unaware of him. He was staring up at the sky with an air of reverent expectation, like he was watching for the Second Coming or something. 

The first cool drops fell onto Dean’s face, and the scent of rain-moistened dust began to fill the air. Having no particular desire to get drenched again, Dean swore under his breath. He almost opened his mouth and called, _Okay, Cas, time to come in, we’re gonna get soaked,_ but he fell silent at the look on the angel’s face. 

Cas had spread his swanlike wings to their full impressive length, and…

And he was _smiling._

Dean couldn’t stop himself from gaping at Cas’ expression. The angel had become increasingly expressive as he got used to the vessel he wore, of course. When Dean had first met him, he’d generally worn a stoic, unchanging mask, but now he had developed a range of expressions, from mournful puppy-dog eyes to puzzlement to mild amusement. But although he was capable of smiling, it was rarely more than a small curve of the lips, a tiny crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He almost never smiled broadly.

But now he was looking up at the sky, his teeth showing in a grin of unmistakable delight. He lifted his hands to the sky as the rain began to fall in earnest, and laughed out loud, the happy chortle of a child.

Dean felt like someone had hit him in the chest. He felt breathless, lightheaded, and he wasn’t sure why. The rain was beginning to soak his hair, his clothing, but he couldn’t seem to look away from Cas’ joyful face.

The great white wings lifted, as if reaching for the sky. Dean could hear the rain pattering onto them, and it dawned on him that the rain was the reason Cas was out here. Earlier in the evening Dean had helped clean Cas’ wings by running water over them in the shower. Cas had liked the sensation an awful lot. So naturally, when he’d heard the distant thunder, he’d...

 _Angel masturbation,_ he realized, knowing he should look away, but totally unable to do so. He was intruding on a private moment, a _vulnerable_ moment, and the voyeur in him couldn’t avert his eyes, not when Cas was so rarely vulnerable. He never got to see Cas like this, open, unguarded, and it just wasn’t something he could look away from.

Besides, he thought with a faint grin, it gave a whole other twist to his idea that Cas had been waiting for the _second coming._

The wings began to beat, very slowly—which Dean recognized as a sign of sexual arousal. When they’d made out in the confined space of the bathroom and climaxed in a hot rush, the angel had flapped his wings fiercely, but hadn’t been able to fully spread them. But now they were extended to their full length, some twenty feet from wingtip to wingtip, and they were _magnificent._

Part of Dean wanted to stay in the shadows, to lurk here watching Cas indulge himself. But he knew it was wrong to spy on Cas. The angel was his friend as well as his lover, and Dean owed him the respect of letting him know he was being watched.

And besides... he really wanted to get his hands on those wings again. And maybe on Cas himself, too. 

Slowly, he stepped out of the shadows and walked toward his angel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to finish this up today, but I have medical stuff to get accomplished this afternoon. So you guys get an update, but not the finale. Hope to finish tomorrow!

The gravel crunched beneath Dean’s feet as he walked across the parking lot, and Cas’ head turned. Some of the delighted brilliance of his smile faded, as if he was suddenly self-conscious. His wings stopped flapping, though they quivered, as if he found it difficult to hold them still.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Dean said.

“I was… I was just…”

“It’s okay, Cas. I figured out what you were doing.”

Cas’ wings drooped a little, and water dripped from the great flight feathers. “It is a sin,” he said softly.

“Like hell it is.” Dean reached him, and placed a hand on his arm. Cas had dressed himself in his usual outfit, and the fabric of the trenchcoat was wet beneath Dean's palm. “It’s no big deal, Cas. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“It is, though.” The angel looked back at him soberly, folding his wings further. “Onanism is sinful, wrong in God’s eyes. I should not… indulge myself this way.”

“I don’t pretend to know anything about God,” Dean said, “but if you ask me, something that feels good and doesn’t hurt anyone isn’t a sin. That’s truth according to the Gospel of Dean Winchester.”

The angel’s mouth curved up at the corners. “I would not presume to argue with the Gospel.”

“Good. Now spread those wings again, and let me watch.”

In the dim glow from the single light in the parking lot, he could swear he saw Cas’ cheeks flush. But the angel obediently spread his wings fully and lifted them. It was raining pretty hard now, and Dean could hear the big raindrops pounding against the feathers. 

Cas’ head tilted back. His dark hair was soaked now, plastered to his head, but he wore a blissed-out expression Dean had never seen on his face before. He imagined this was how Cas had looked in the shower when he came, though he hadn’t been paying a lot of attention to such details at the time. He couldn’t stop himself from looking now, though, seeing the way Cas’ lips parted, the way his hands clenched at his sides, over and over, the way his body was beginning to tremble.

The great wings, which Dean had so carefully groomed, were growing disheveled under the onslaught of the summer rain, feathers sticking out in all directions. Dean could see the water beading on them, droplets glistening like diamonds in the faint light, and he found that he desperately wanted to touch those wings again, to run his hands through them and dig his fingers into them and bury his nose in their warm depths.

But he also wanted to watch.

He saw Cas beginning to move with unconscious need, his hips jerking spasmodically. Dean wasn’t quite clear on how the human vessel and the angel wings were tied together—it was obvious that Jimmy Novak’s body, muscular though it was, could not possibly carry the weight of two ten-foot wings—but there was no doubt that stimulation to the wings resulted in pleasure to the body. 

Sexual pleasure. 

“Take off your clothes,” he said, forcing out the words past the tension in his throat. His voice was so hoarse, so rough, that he barely recognized it as his own.

Cas dragged his eyes open, as if the eyelids weighed a ton, and looked at him. “But Dean, this is not an entirely private location…”

They were out of sight of the motel's windows, and it wasn't like anyone with half a brain was going to be coming outside on a night like this. “Take ‘em _off._ ”

Cas seemed to respond to the command in his voice. The clothes suddenly vanished, leaving Cas clothed in nothing but Jimmy Novak’s sexy skin and a whole lot of rain. 

Dean gulped. Cas had obeyed him. Like he was in charge or something.

Cool.

Cas’ body was partly shielded by the enormous wings, but the wind blew the rain every which way, and his skin quickly grew wet and slick. His cock, Dean saw, was just as hard as it had been earlier, and it didn’t seem to object to the rain sluicing over it, either. It bobbed and weaved as the warm raindrops struck it, and the huge wings beat frantically, creating a wind of their own.

Cas’ head had fallen back, and he gave a long, heartfelt groan, sounding like he was caught up in unbearable ecstasy. Dean could see his cock pulsing, could see it gleaming with rain or precome or both, and he knew that Cas was just seconds away from shooting his load.

Dean wanted to see that, more than he wanted anything. But he didn't want it to be over quite this soon.

“Don’t come,” he said harshly.

The angel’s eyelashes fluttered, and he looked at Dean, confused. “But I thought you wanted me to—"

“I do. Just not yet.”

“ _Dean._ ” Cas said his name like a prayer, low and reverent and adoring. “This is not something I have control over.”

“You have more control than you think. Don’t come yet.”

He saw Cas bare his teeth and arch his wings, but the twitching of his cock slowed.

“That’s a good little angel.” Dean found that he liked bossing Cas around. Castiel was a seraph, a warrior of God, whereas he himself was just an ordinary human. It gave him a little rush to tell the angel what to do, and to be obeyed so readily. “Now touch yourself.”

Cas blinked at him in puzzlement. “I beg your pardon?”

“Wrap your hand around your cock, Cas. I want to see some more sinning going on.”

Cas flushed all over, whether with embarrassment or arousal Dean wasn’t sure. Maybe both. “Go on,” he said, letting his tone grow deliberately sharp, and the angel obediently wrapped his fingers around his hard-on—and shuddered.

“Oh. _Dean._ ”

“That’s right.” Dean couldn’t tear his gaze away. The rain was falling harder than ever, pounding on Cas’ wings, drenching Dean, but he hardly noticed. He was completely focused on the angel. “Now stroke it, the same way I touched you in the shower.”

Cas moved his hand, tentatively, and his head dropped back again, so that the rain fell into his face. His eyelashes drifted shut, and he moaned.

“Keep going,” Dean told him. “But don’t come.”

Cas stroked himself and whined, a noise of arousal and protest, all mingled together. Dean could see his cock beginning to pulse again, could see the wings beating fiercely, and he knew that Cas was right on the edge.

“Don’t you _dare,_ ” he said sharply. “Slow down.”

Cas did as he commanded, whimpering with every stroke, a soft, pitiful sound that was barely audible over the rush of rain all around them. His wings rose up and down in a steady motion, generating a breeze almost hard enough to knock Dean over. Dean planted his feet, unwilling to miss a moment of this, and watched every movement of his hand, watched the precome dripping from the tip of his engorged cock, watched the way his face screwed up in a very human expression of pleasure.

“Stop,” he said at last.

“ _Dean._ ” He’d said the name like a prayer earlier, but now it was a desperate plea.

“I said _stop,_ Castiel.”

Reluctant but obedient, Cas let go of his cock. It bobbed and jerked frantically, swollen and flushed with blood, and his trembling hands knotted into fists. He was, Dean thought, the perfect picture of desperate physical need.

“I can’t—“ The angel's voice was a rough, broken whisper. “The rain—my wings—"

“Yeah. I know. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“It feels…” One corner of Cas’ mouth turned up. “Heavenly.”

“Told you it’s not a sin.”

“If it is a sin…” Cas heaved a long, happy sigh. “It is a particularly pleasurable one.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean grinned, and moved toward him. “I think you’re gonna like this next sin even more.”


	3. Chapter 3

Standing there naked in the rain, Castiel looked like a sculpture, Dean thought. Like marble carved by what’s-his-name, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle dude. Michelangelo, that was the guy. Like old Mike had decided to sculpt an ideal representation of an angel, and come up with _this._

Of course, this particular angel had a spectacularly rampant erection, but Dean was pretty sure he’d read somewhere that Michelangelo was gay, so he probably wouldn’t have minded putting his chisel up against that. He himself sure as hell didn’t object to the idea. Cas’ hard, quivering erection only added to his beauty, as far as Dean was concerned. Even if it wasn’t perfectly angelic.

He remembered how Cas had been when they’d first met—remote, cold, devoted to Heaven’s orders—and wondered how Cas had come so far in so short a time. Wasn’t he like a billion years old? It seemed like a few insignificant years couldn’t have been enough to change him so drastically. But maybe it was all the time he’d spent in a human vessel lately. Maybe human instincts and feelings and impulses had begun seeping into the ancient being known as Castiel, changing its outlook on the world.

Maybe, he reflected, his friendship with Cas had helped too. Maybe hanging out with him and Sammy had helped Cas see things differently. 

Anyway, for whatever reason, Cas was no longer that cool and distant angel. Instead he was a turned-on, quivering mass of all-too-human flesh that was about ten seconds away from a climax.

Dean intended to give him everything he wanted.

He came to a halt directly in front of Cas, and stared into the dark eyes. Cas looked back, not a challenging look but a pleading one. 

Dean went to his knees. The ground was sodden, and he could feel mud and water soaking through his sweats almost instantly. But he couldn’t bring himself to care much, not when he was on eye level with…

Oh, Jesus. Cas was _beautiful._

Thunder rolled overhead. He reached out, took Cas’ cock gently into his hand, and leaned forward.

At the first touch of his tongue against Cas’ swollen erection, the angel’s wings began beating in erratic bursts, and Dean heard rough, unfamiliar syllables above him. He grinned, knowing that Cas was swearing in Enochian again.

He wasn’t an expert on this particular activity, because he was perfectly straight (except for the fact that he was kneeling in front of a guy and running his tongue over a dick, which was admittedly not the straightest thing he’d ever done), but he had a feeling Cas wasn’t really in the mood to criticize. He let his tongue circle around the swollen head, then swiped slowly and gently over the very tip. Cas arched his back, the wings flapping so hard it was a wonder he didn’t lift right off the ground, and shouted something Dean couldn’t understand, but which nevertheless sounded really obscene.

He could taste Cas’ precome, and it was sort of salty and slightly bitter, but not awful by any means. He found he didn’t mind it at all, especially not if he could make Cas keep yelling like that. He did it again, teasingly, and Cas shouted out more Enochian, all tangled up with Dean’s name repeated over and over.

Fortunately the rain was still pouring down, and thunder was rolling, low and rumbling, so there wasn’t much chance anyone would hear Cas crying out and come to investigate. The rain was coming down pretty hard now, and Dean imagined that it felt pretty damn good against Cas’ outstretched wings. He knew Cas had to be unbearably close now, and he wasn’t sure how much further he could push his angel. He stroked the tip once more with a long, thorough swipe of his tongue, then began trailing down the vein that snaked along the underside of Cas’ cock, moving down toward his balls. 

Cas’ hands suddenly clenched into Dean's wet hair, as if the angel could hardly keep his balance despite the enormous wings, and he heard the deep voice above him, no longer shouting, spilling out endless syllables of Enochian. Cas sounded desperate, frantic, like he was pleading.

Dean didn’t allow himself to be rushed. He was very conscious that this was all new to Cas, and he wanted the angel to come so hard lights blew out for miles around. Anyway, even though he was kneeling at Cas’ feet, he was still in charge. 

He nuzzled at Cas’ balls—also not the absolute straightest thing he’d ever done, but fuck it, he was enjoying the hell out of this, so who cared?—then slowly drew one into his mouth and sucked. After a moment he let it go, and suckled the other. There was a hurricane blowing around him now, punctuated by small, drifting white feathers, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t the storm, but Cas’ wings, beating so hard that he was losing a few of his small downy feathers. 

“Shhh,” he murmured, licking his way back up the swollen shaft. “Take it easy, buddy. I’ll take care of you.”

Cas rumbled something that sounded like _now_ and then added something that sounded like _damn it Dean._ The English words were interspersed with the short syllables of Enochian, and none of it sounded terribly coherent.

“Soon,” Dean promised, and began stroking his tongue over the head again. Cas was really wet now, absolutely dripping precome, and with every touch of Dean’s tongue his cock jerked and twitched. Dean thought about how good this must feel to him—not only his cock being played with, but his wings being stimulated by the pounding rain as well. He found he was a little envious. Angels had extra erogenous zones. Who would’ve guessed?

Of course, it would just figure that they were mostly too dumb to notice. It had taken Cas _years_ of wearing a human body to figure out that a spray of water felt good on his wings—something Dean was pretty sure he would have noticed in two hours or less if he happened to sprout a nice big pair of wings. Evidently angels weren’t the brightest stars in the sky, or maybe they simply weren’t accustomed to thinking about physical pleasure.

But once they thought about it, they seemed to embrace it with enthusiasm.

Cas’ hands were still buried in his hair, clutching so hard it wouldn’t surprise Dean if he had bald patches when they were through. Rain was dripping from the hunter's hair, down into his eyes, droplets falling from the end of his nose, but he wasn’t about to stop now. Not when the moment of truth was at hand. 

He let his tongue slide beneath the head of Cas’ cock, then parted his lips and very slowly drew it into his mouth.

Okay, so there was no way he could delude himself into thinking that was straight. Not even a little. But it didn't seem to matter much. He was sucking off another guy, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to worry about it. Cas was sobbing now, thrusting in unsteady jerks, trying to push his way deeper into Dean’s mouth. Dean caught him by the hips, because he didn’t want Cas to suddenly shove in so deep he gagged. Dean liked this surprisingly well, considering his supposed straightness, but this was all new to him too, and he had doubts about his ability to do any serious deep-throating.

He began carefully suckling the head. It felt huge, but it was also wet and velvety soft, and as he stimulated the tender flesh Cas shuddered violently. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed, and for the first time it occurred to Dean to wonder if Cas had come outside because he’d heard distant thunder, or if he’d actually created the thunderstorm.

 _Please,_ Cas was whimpering, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the storm, _please Dean **please…**_

He knew Cas needed more, and he slowly, carefully let his lips slip down the shaft, taking in everything he could. He wanted to swallow Cas right down, to take every last inch of him, but he was new at this, and that just wasn’t happening. He tried to make it as good as he could, though, and began sliding up and down in a steady rhythm.

Cas fell silent, but his wings beat furiously, and Dean knew what that meant. He glanced up, as best he could considering that he was kneeling in the mud with a big dick in his mouth, and saw that Cas’ head had fallen back, his lips parted, his body so tense that the tendons in his neck stood out. Dean could see his throat working and his Adam’s apple bobbing, and he knew that Cas was about to give it up for him.

But Cas didn’t come. Dean had a feeling he was holding back deliberately, so he lifted a hand, slid it just behind Cas’ balls, and stroked the smooth skin back there. Pressure there never failed to make him go nuts, and Cas seemed to have the same reaction. 

Castiel moaned Dean’s name as his wings thrashed violently, and he came in scorching spurts right down Dean’s throat.

 _Fuck,_ Dean thought as his angel fell apart for the second time that night, _oh **fuck.**_ Getting Cas off, making him sob and whimper and beat his wings helplessly, might just be the hottest thing he’d ever experienced. Scratch that—it _was_ the hottest thing he’d ever experienced, bar none. 

He’d made an angel beg for it. What could possibly be sexier than that?

When the last tremor seemed to have shaken Cas, Dean let go of him, and the angel slowly sank down onto his knees. His head fell forward, onto Dean's shoulder, and Dean held him close. The angel's wings wrapped around him, and Dean discovered that he felt cradled in warmth and safety despite the summer storm raging overhead. He had the sudden conviction that nothing bad could possibly happen to him as long as Cas' wings surrounded him.

"I am sorry." Cas mumbled into his shoulder, so low Dean could barely hear him over the sound of the fat raindrops falling around them. "I was so—enraptured—by the experience that I did not—I did not think of you—"

"It's okay." Dean ran a hand through the wet, bedraggled feathers, making Cas quiver. "Sometimes giving is just as good as receiving, Cas. This was one of those times."

"But you..."

"Later. Don't worry about me right now." He tugged gently on a handful of feathers, and the angel twitched. "I knew you'd like it."

Cas sighed in contentment. "You were right," he muttered. "I understand it better now. I am beginning to realize that experiencing sex is much different from observing it, and I now perceive that sexual pleasure is not a sin. It is a gift."

"Told you," Dean said smugly. "The Gospel of Dean Winchester is never wrong."

"I will never doubt your infallibility again." Cas lifted his head and looked directly at Dean. Even in the dim light, Dean could see mischief gleaming in his eyes. "Later, perhaps we should read together from another book of the Gospel."

"Works for me. But in the meantime..." Dean rumpled up the sodden feathers under his hand. "Your wings are a total disaster area, buddy. Again. We've got some serious work to do here."

"Perhaps we would be more comfortable back in the motel room," Cas suggested. He tilted his head, and instantly they were back inside. Dean found that he was warm and dry and free of mud. Cas hadn't bothered to put his clothes back on, but his bare skin was clean and dry as well. But his wings still streamed water, feathers sticking out in all directions, and Dean could see spatters of mud here and there, marring the gleaming snow-white surface.

"Geez," he grumbled. "We've got a _lot_ of work to do."

Cas grinned that all-too-human grin, and spread his wings.

"We'd better get started," he said.


End file.
